Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
The last time I’d thought I was on the brink of a dream come true, I’d lost everything. I wasn’t sure I could go through that again. But this was different. The stakes were higher.
Much higher.
This wasn’t just about me. There was a woman grieving her friend, a brother honoring his sister’s memory, a grandmother grappling with her definition of family and duty…and the man who wanted to be the father his wasn’t. So much hope, forgiveness, and promise riding on this little person. It seemed like an unfair burden.
All I could think was that I wished Viggo was with me. I wanted to hear the low rumble of his voice reassuring me that everything was going to be okay.
The second I peeled into the hospital parking lot, I was out of my SUV and racing for the main lobby.
My phone buzzed in my hand. Freya again.
“I’m doing better. Don’t worry, okay? Viggo is here and—”
“He’s here? I’m here too. I just arrived.” I raked my fingers through my hair and massaged my temple.
She said she was in the maternity ward. She sounded a thousand times better than she had earlier. Chatty, even. Her friend Alice was with her, Viggo was pacing, but everything was okay. “I’m sorry, Dex. I feel terrible.”
“Don’t. I’m relieved.”
I was also on the verge of a nervous breakdown, thank you very much.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, willing my blood pressure to return to normal.
You’ve got this. Your head isn’t going to explode. It’s just a little stress. You can do this on your own.
Freya lay propped in a hospital bed, her hair cascading on her pillow like a golden halo as she chatted amicably with Dr. Razminski and a pretty woman with brown curls she introduced as her friend and neighbor, Alice. And Viggo…standing like a statue at the window.
The episode of The Office muted on the small screen TV and the bag of M&M’s and sunflower seeds on the credenza juxtaposed the scary hospital vibe. But I was riding a two-plus hour wave of terror and wasn’t quite able to process the downgraded sense of urgency.
“We’re treating her for mild preeclampsia,” Dr. Razminski explained. “Her blood pressure was elevated, which isn’t uncommon at this stage of pregnancy. It can manifest in a variety of symptoms—headaches, sudden swelling, abdominal pain.”
I glanced helplessly from Freya to Viggo to the doctor. “Will you induce labor or—”
“No, no. We did an ultrasound and the baby is under no stress whatsoever. You’ve got a good two to three weeks to go. She just needs to put her feet up and relax. No more trips out of town.”
I furrowed my brow. “What about medication?”
“None necessary. Freya needs to rest and relax. That’s the best cure.” Dr. Razminski smiled kindly. “I’ll sign release papers now. Have a good night and please…don’t worry, Dads. She’s fine.”
I rubbed my jaw and glanced at Viggo. He hadn’t moved a muscle or said a word. That was worrisome, but my sense of relief outweighed my anxiety.
I collapsed in the chair next to Alice’s and took Freya’s hand. “Fuck, you scared me.”
Freya cradled her belly protectively. “I’m so sorry. I panicked. It all happened at once—a terrible headache and my ankles looked like I had melons attached to them, and my stomach was aching everywhere. Alice lives next door. She’s a writer and she works from home.”
“We check on each other every day,” Alice said.
“Thank you for that.” I patted Alice’s arm.
“Viggo?” Freya tilted her chin and held a hand out. She spoke in Swedish, her tone soft and soothing. He finally stirred, moved to the opposite side of the bed, and linked their fingers. His expression remained hard and unreadable.
Months ago, I might have thought he was cold and emotionally stunted. Now I knew he simply felt too much.
They spoke in hushed tones in Swedish. I didn’t know the language, but I didn’t need to. I could tell he was upset and that she was comforting him.
The sense of helplessness overwhelmed me. I wasn’t sure what to do or say. He seemed to be in pain, though. Real pain. It was in the slump of his shoulders and the firm set of his jaw. He’d been here before…or hadn’t been and he was scared.
Fuck, I was scared.
Viggo met my gaze and tried to smile. “I told you it would be okay.”
I blubbered a half-laugh and for the first time in hours felt my shoulders relax. But as I stood and stepped toward him, Viggo squeezed my elbow and walked out the door.
I stared after him helplessly. “He’s not okay.”
“No.” Freya shook her head, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Please go.”
I caught up to Viggo at the elevator. He stood in the far corner, arms crossed, oozing serious Do Not Disturb vibes. I gave him space and followed him outside to the knoll with brown grass and bare trees beside the parking lot.